


The Storm

by Angelise (angelise7)



Category: Tombstone (1993)
Genre: Early Work, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, It's non-con but it's not?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 02:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3751477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgan Earp has just been murdered by the Cowboys and we meet up with Doc and Wyatt at his grave site.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is me rewriting an old fic.

Doc Holliday stood silently in the shadows, watching, waiting.

An oppressive heat now blanketed the town, its arrival a sure indication of the approaching storm. In the distance lightening fractured the blackness with the rumble of thunder echoing the sudden flash of brilliance. The elements of nature were screaming in anger at the injustice of Morgan Earp's death. Their violent protest seemed to focus their fury on the man kneeling alone at the edges of a freshly dug grave.

His protective gaze never wavering from the lone figure, Holliday continued to remain hidden from sight. His heart wept for his friend and the urge to comfort and soothe the grieving gunman nearly convinced him to abandon his place of concealment. He hung back though, allowing the grief its moment of privacy. 

He jumped when a tortured roar caught him by surprise.

"ENOUGH!"

Wyatt Earp sprang to his feet and lifted his face to the stormy skies above. Lightening again rent the night's veil of gloom, its glare reflecting off the tears that fell down his cheeks. Uttering a nearly inaudible curse, the lawman walked quickly away from the gravesite, completely unaware of the bloodstained cloth fluttering to the ground.

Wyatt strode out of town, and Holliday followed, remaining a trailing shadow until they entered a grove thick with ancient oak trees. He abandoned his clandestine behavior and darted swiftly forward when Wyatt stumbled and fell. He caught the man as his legs gave out and both of them tumbled to the ground.

He knew Wyatt recognized the arms that wrapped around him and for a moment, under the cover of darkness, his friend took momentary comfort in his embrace. Regrettably, it soon became apparent Wyatt’s overwhelming grief and anger refused to be assuaged by his offer of tender touches and sympathetic words.

And even though he knew his friend’s heart constantly clamored for love and understanding, he understood that at this moment in time Wyatt’s soul howled for revenge and justice. A war of emotions and needs was raging inside his beloved friend, blinding him to all rational thought. Glancing at the night sky, it seemed to him that nature was more than willing to encourage Wyatt's wrath, the heavens exploding with light and sound.

Without warning, Holliday found himself pinned to the ground, his body held motionless by uncaring arms and legs. Hands grappled with his outer garments, fingers ripping fabric away to expose the pale flesh underneath. A knee forced his legs apart, its weight grinding against his groin. He sucked tortured breaths into his rotting lungs while his body instinctively responded to Wyatt's violence. Vital air escaped and mutated itself into desperate moans when his flesh betrayed him, his organ welcoming the hand that frantically stroked it to a state of dripping hardness.

“Wyatt, as much as I aspire to physically join with you, this is not the time. Please, Wyatt.” He desperately tried to drag his lust under control for he could hear Wyatt crying. Interspersed with the thunder were husky denials he did not understand. Vainly, he struggled to make sense of not only the words tumbling out of Wyatt's mouth but also the emotions behind them.

"I can't . . ."

His mouth was once again devoured, a familiar tongue plundering deep inside and stealing his limited supply of precious air

"I won't . . ."

Hands tore open his shirt and attacked his chest, pulling and pinching sensitized nipples. A mouth followed soon after, sucking hard on the small dark peaks.

"No! Won't sacrifice . . . NEVER!"

Without warning, Wyatt returned to his lips, the gunman’s thirst for his taste nearly unquenchable. More undistinguishable words tumbled out as Wyatt’s unsteady hands journeyed downward again, resuming their tormenting rhythm.

Holliday began to buck wildly, unable to resist the passionate assault upon his traitorous body. His incessant moans were greedily swallowed up by Wyatt's mouth. Turbulent emotions soon exploded inside him as Wyatt pushed him closer and closer to a blazing climax.

With a restraint he no longer believed he could muster forth, he valiantly clamped down on his imminent release. He knew Wyatt's brutal attack was not directed at him personally, understood there were underlying reasons driving his friend's actions. Yet, despite the harsh violation of his body, he knew without a doubt that Wyatt sincerely cared for him, maybe even loved him.

Their mutual affection for one another was a safely kept secret. Sometimes it was hidden so deep that even he, on certain occasions, had to search Wyatt's deep blue eyes for the feelings he knew resided in the man's heart. Theirs was not a relationship that could be freely expressed, not without someone stringing up a rope to hang them, punishing them for their immoral behavior.

His thoughts scattered with the wind when he felt Wyatt's hot mouth envelop his erection. The gentle claiming of his shaft weakened his resolve and, with a whimper of near exhaustion, he finally surrendered, conceding the battle of desires to his friend. The instant his perseverance shattered, his own hands entered into the fray. One searched out a matching hardness, while its twin encouraged his friend to open his mouth wider, allowing him to sink deeper inside the furnace of searing moisture.

Wyatt immediately took advantage of his submission and pulled down his trousers, allowing access to the furry sac that lay between his legs. Gun-roughened hands tormented the encased ovals, squeezing and pulling on them in perfect rhythm with their owner’s voracious mouth.

“Wyatt!” He grabbed the lawman’s head and forced a rhythm that would bring their violent, albeit welcomed, interlude to a halt. When the precipice of his release loomed before him, he prayed his friend would somehow hear his breath-starved request over the storm's furious cacophony of sound.

“Now, Wyatt. NOW!"

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, Holliday strangled the scream that would rival the thundering peals that crashed over their heads. He jerked Wyatt away from his spasming organ and pulled him within kissing range before attacking his mouth and feeding him his howl of completion.

His violent reaction matched that of his beloved gunman's, both of them spilling their seed together. The evidence of their combined climax stained their clothes and their flesh, the pungent odor of their hot semen heavy in the night air.

He caught Wyatt as he collapsed into his arms, and it was several moments before he could bring his riotous heart and straining lungs under control. A vindictive coughing spell hit him and he buried his face against Wyatt's shoulder trying to contain the agonizing spasm that ripped through his chest.

Exhausted, he allowed his head to fall back and hit the hard ground beneath it. “I am no longer a spry youth, Wyatt,” he whispered to his friend in an attempt to lighten the distressing mood enveloping them. “You have undone me quite magnificently.” He lifted trembling hands to Wyatt’s back, lending as much comfort as possible. The storm grew briefly silent, and it wasn’t long before a sound snagged his attention. He frowned, his ears disbelieving what he heard.

Wyatt was sobbing.

The lawman pressed tear laden kisses to the area of his chest where his heart lay, his mouth soothing the flesh he had tortured earlier. Holliday tangled his fingers in Wyatt's long dark chestnut hair and gently encouraged him to lift his head so that he could see his face. Emotions threatened to overwhelm him when he heard his friend's whispered confession.

"I love you, Doc. I can't . . . can't bear to lose you, too."

The world tilted for a second and suddenly Holliday found himself lying on top of his friend.

"I won't let 'em take you from me,” Wyatt continued. “It's . . . it's a sacrifice I'm not willin' to make."

The gunman reached up, cupping his face and kissing him gently, the violence of passion a shadowed memory.

"Don't leave me, Doc. I . . . I need you too much."

“My fearless warrior.” With quite desperation, Holliday deepened the kiss offered to him, taking greedy possession of Wyatt's mouth. His hunger for air finally pulled him away, and it took several seconds before he could promise his eternal devotion to the man who owned his entire being.

"Never fear, Wyatt. I will always be by your side."

He draped himself more comfortably over Wyatt's larger frame before pulling the lawman’s discarded duster over their rapidly cooling bodies.

"Tomorrow we ride, Wyatt, and we shall seek vengeance together."

He captured his lover's lips for one more soul searching kiss, then smiled down at the man.

"Tomorrow, Wyatt Earp. Tomorrow we become immortal."

 

The end

[You can find me on Tumblr!](http://angelise7.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Doc’s last statement, ‘Tomorrow we become immortal,’ is a nod to the group of men who accompanied Wyatt Earp on his ride of vengeance. The Immortals, one of which was Doc Holliday, would ride with Earp over several months, tracking down and killing the outlaws responsible for the death of his younger brother, Morgan and the attempted murder of his older brother, Virgil.


End file.
